


Because Fuck Savit, Anyway

by draculard



Series: Comfortween [10]
Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Anti-Alien Discrimination, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Multi, Public Break-Ups, art gallery dates, opera dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: It's an open secret on the Chimaera that Thrawn and Grand Admiral Savit have some sort ofthinggoing on. Everyone seems in agreement that it's kind of cute.Faro is not in agreement.
Relationships: Balanhai Savit/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Karyn Faro/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Series: Comfortween [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946224
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39
Collections: Comfortween 2020





	Because Fuck Savit, Anyway

It was at the end of a very long day — and a shorter but just as wearying debrief — that Thrawn slipped up. 

He was staring at his starmap as he said it, his eyes far away in thought and his words coming out in the modulated, absent voice he always used when he was distracted. In fact, Faro was a little distracted herself, and almost didn’t notice what he said.

“The meeting with the other Grand Admirals went well, sir?” Faro asked.

“Well enough,” Thrawn responded without glancing her way. “We hit what you may call a strategic snag in regards to the pirates in Felva Sector, but Balanhai and I were able to persuade the rest to see reason.”

Faro looked up from her datapad, eyebrows raised. Thrawn stared at his starmap, his fingers templed. He didn’t seem to realize what he’d said.

“I, ah, didn’t know you were on first-name terms with Grand Admiral Savit, sir,” said Faro evenly.

Thrawn’s reaction was damning. If he’d kept his face blank and just said something like, “Indeed we are,” Faro could have brushed the whole thing under the rug and forgotten about it. Instead, Thrawn’s eyes widened, he sat up a bit straighter, and he awkwardly cleared his throat.

Busying himself with datawork, he said to Faro, “I don’t mean to keep you past your shift, Commodore…”

Awkwardness _and_ a dismissal?

Yeah, there was no doubt about it. Thrawn was secretly dating Grand Admiral Savit.

* * *

It was an open secret on the ISD _Firedrake_ that Savit and the alien Grand Admiral from the Unknown Regions had something of a _thing_. Everyone onboard the ship knew it; the Grand Admirals tried to be subtle, but they absolutely weren’t. They practically held hands every time they walked down the passageways together.

And the walls in Savit’s office were _very_ thin, as his aides could attest.

Still, it took quite some time for the rumors to reach the _Chimaera_. Perhaps this was because Thrawn and Savit almost always met on the _Firedrake_ ; perhaps it was simply because Savit didn’t feel confident enough to grab Thrawn’s ass in public when they weren’t on his own ship. Regardless of the reasoning, it took a while for the _Chimaera’s_ crew to catch on, and once they did…

“We’ll give our opinions simultaneously,” said Hammerly in the ship cantina. Their table was full, with officers from different shifts all crowded around to listen as they laid out the evidence. By now, everyone was fully convinced, and all that was left was the vote. “Thrawn and Savit,” said Hammerly. “Cute or disgusting?”

The votes for ‘cute’ were overwhelming — much to Faro’s distaste. She stared at the sole ‘disgusting’ vote on the table, which was her own. 

“Aw, come on,” said Pyrondi, nudging Faro. “It _is_ cute. It’s probably the first time he’s gotten laid since he went into exile and you can tell he’s over the moon about it. He’s practically walking on air. He _blushes_ any time someone says Savit’s name.”

“Nerd love is always cute,” Hammerly agreed.

“Yeah, but _Savit?_ ” said Faro with a scoff. She crossed her arms and tried not to scowl. “Thrawn can do better.”

There were ambivalent noises from all around the table.

“He can do better if he’s looking for a one-night stand, sure,” said Hammerly. “Or he could do better if he was, I don’t know, suddenly and irrevocably struck _mute_. But so long as his partner has to actually listen to him _talk_ , I think he’s gotta take what he can get.”

“His personality isn’t _that_ bad,” said Faro, feeling strangely hurt on Thrawn’s behalf.

“No, for a commanding officer, he’s fantastic,” Pyrondi put in. “But for a _boyfriend_?”

“He _has_ to date one of the other Grand Admirals,” said Hammerly. “No one else will put up with him. And of the Grand Admirals, Savit is obviously the best choice. Closest to Thrawn’s age, likes music, not entirely horrible to look at…”

Faro opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted by a chime from her comlink. She glanced at the message coming in.

_Xoxtin: Grand Admiral’s shuttle is prepped for flight to ISD Firedrake._

“He’s going on another date, isn’t he?” said Pyrondi, leaning over Faro’s shoulder to see.

“Cute!” Hammerly squealed from across the table.

 _Disgusting,_ Faro thought.

* * *

It was a few weeks later and Thrawn and Faro were off-duty in his office, their discussion on battle tactics and politics petering out into nothing. Thrawn’s art holos were on and he had his feet up on his desk — and he was halfway through a glass of what Faro suspected was _extremely_ strong port — when he spoke. 

“I’d like to ask your professional opinion on something,” he said evenly.

Faro glanced down at her own glass of not-so-strong wine and dizzily wondered when she should stop. She suspected neither of them had been capable of saying anything professional for at least an hour now, though they’d certainly _tried_.

Aloud, she said, “Of course, sir. I’m all ears.”

Thrawn templed his fingers. His head was angled back, his eyes fixed not on her but on an art holo above her head. 

“What do you think of Grand Admiral Savit?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Oh, _this_ again. Faro tried very hard not to scowl into her glass of wine. She could feel Thrawn studying her face, and when she glanced up at him, she knew she hadn’t quite succeeded at hiding her scowl; she caught a glimpse of surprise and concern before he sequestered it away.

“I see,” he said, looking away again.

Faro tried to spin some damage control. “Grand Admiral Savit is … very well-connected, sir,” she said, which was about the only ‘positive’ thing she could think of. A shadow crossed Thrawn’s face. “Very adept at politics,” Faro added — which wasn’t necessarily a good thing, either. Then, though it pained her to admit it, she said, “I’ve heard that, musically, he’s quite talented.”

There was nothing worse, she decided, than trying to compliment your friend’s shitty boyfriend. Especially when your friend wouldn’t even admit that it _was_ his boyfriend. She tried to project an air of apology.

“I think he’s rather clever,” said Thrawn, voice strained.

“Sure,” said Faro reluctantly. She saw Thrawn’s eyes flicker and quickly corrected herself. “I mean, certainly, he’s clever. He is a Grand Admiral, after all.”

And Faro supposed that, in a way, utilizing his family connections to wrangle such a title _did_ make Savit clever. 

In a way.

“And he appreciates art,” said Thrawn, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “To an extent.”

 _To an extent,_ he said. Faro raised an eyebrow at that.

“Well, he’s well-educated on art,” Thrawn amended.

“He did attend the H.P. Martus Institute of Fine Art on Coruscant,” Faro told him.

“Yes,” said Thrawn with an unhappy little frown.

...Now that was interesting, Faro thought, sitting up a little straighter.

“You don’t approve of the institute?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Ah…” said Thrawn, swirling the port around in his glass. “I’m sure it’s a very fine institute. Certainly, it’s put out a great deal of accomplished alumni.”

Faro leaned back in her seat. “That sounds an awful lot like a _no_ to me, sir.”

To her surprise, Thrawn grimaced and took a swig of port. “I’d like to see it someday,” he said ambivalently. 

Faro waited for him to go on; when he didn’t, she took her own sip of wine and scooted closer to his desk. “You’re on Coruscant often enough,” she said. “Surely you could find the time…”

The sardonic look Thrawn gave her made her voice dry up. Looking almost amused, he stared down into his port and said, “Non-humans are only permitted inside as guests of an alumnus.”

Faro watched him, trying to process this when most of her brain felt like it had been steeped in wine. Thrawn didn’t allow the silence to grow uncomfortable; he set his glass down and started fiddling with his holoprojector, pulling up images from inside the institute.

“Some of the most famous Coruscanti artists are both politicians and alumni of the Martus Institute, as I’m sure you know,” he said, flipping through the holos. “Some of their artwork is shared on the HoloNet, but much of it can only be viewed in-person at the school.”

“And you’ve asked Savit to take you?” asked Faro, dreading the answer.

“Yes,” said Thrawn. He paused, his eyes shifting over each of the images in turn. “I’m uncertain why he refuses to.”

Faro hesitated; on the one hand, it was easy to see why Savit might hesitate to bring an alien friend to the Institute. As the son of an elite Coruscanti family, and furthermore as an Imperial officer, he was expected to publicly shun non-humans; to treat them as anything other than either enemies or pathetic victims in need of aid was social suicide. 

But on the other hand, Thrawn was himself an Imperial officer — a Grand Admiral, no less — and his personal relationship with the Emperor made him an exception to Coruscant’s anti-alien social rules. Furthermore, since Savit was in fact secretly dating Thrawn, surely he could make an exception and be seen with him publicly at least once … especially since they were colleagues, especially since they could both attend the Institute’s art gallery in uniform if need be.

She frowned at Thrawn, unable to come up with a decent excuse for Savit’s behavior. As if he could see this mental struggle in her eyes, he looked away.

“Well,” he said lightly, “there are other galleries.”

“Right,” said Faro, not convinced. 

“And he _has_ invited me to the opera the next time we’re in the Core,” said Thrawn.

“Well, naturally,” said Faro before she could stop herself. “Because _he_ likes opera.”

Thrawn gave her an unreadable look at that. “I don’t dislike opera,” he said mildly.

“I’m not saying you do,” said Faro. “It’s just that … well, even if it were just _us_ , sir, and we were trying to find an activity to fill the time, I’d agree to go to an art show with you, because it’s something you enjoy and it’s something I don’t mind doing. And _we’re_ just friends.”

Thrawn, who had been fiddling with his holoprojector, fumbled with it at those words. He looked up at Faro, his eyes wide. 

“Bal and I aren’t—” he started.

“I didn’t mean to imply—” Faro rushed to say.

They both stopped, staring at each other with pinched expressions.

“...Bal?” Faro asked, her voice neutral.

Thrawn set his port down with an audible thump of the glass against his desktop. “I have a meeting to prepare for,” he said, banishing the art holos from Savit’s alma mater. “Perhaps you should go.”

A meeting at 9 p.m. ship-time, when he was off-duty and had been drinking for over an hour already? Faro rolled her eyes… 

...but all she said was, “Aye, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow on the bridge.”

* * *

Of course, everything went south eventually. Barely a week had passed since Faro’s conversation with Thrawn about “Bal” when he was called to Coruscant by the Emperor again.

And so was Grand Admiral Savit, Faro noticed when she looked through the messages. And so were several other admirals, but they didn’t matter to her as much. What mattered was that Thrawn was finally getting his fabled date night at the opera. 

She keyed into Coruscant’s entertainment network on the holopod that night, vaguely curious to see what the news would make about it; it seemed like the sort of thing that might garner some slight interest from the media, two Grand Admirals attending the opera together. Entertainment and politics went hand-in-hand on Coruscant, after all, and there were plenty of people who’d love to know which high-ranking officers were seen together socially and which weren’t.

She turned the holopod on knowing everyone else on bridge crew’s off-shift would be doing the same, and she had her fingers crossed that Thrawn and Savit would be featured for at least a little bit.

But then the camera turned to them as she’d hoped, and she found her gut twisting, and suddenly she wished it would focus on anyone else in the galaxy instead.

Thrawn and Savit had arrived together, both in their dress whites as Faro had suggested a week ago. They’d stopped at the entrance to the opera house, both of them pretending not to see the cameras — and Thrawn really did look handsome in his dress whites, Faro thought wistfully. Certainly better than Savit, who always looked just a tiny bit bloated and a _lot_ annoyed, whereas Thrawn’s default expression was one of solemn dignity and grace and—

Oh no. He didn’t have that expression now. Faro’s eyes narrowed as the camera zoomed in, giving her a good view of the line between Thrawn’s eyebrows and the unhidden frown on his face. Savit, looking haughty, pointed off to the side.

And the camera swung around, following his gesture; helpfully, the reporter said, “It appears Grand Admiral Thrawn was not informed of the opera house’s non-human seating policy. Oh, dear.”

Faro sat up straight in her seat, outrage kindling a low fire in her stomach. Savit had a private box. It was his family’s opera house! He could invite anyone he wanted to sit with him, why wasn’t he—

“Strange that Grand Admiral Savit didn’t simply invite him to his private box,” the reporter continued. “That would have solved the seating issue entirely. Oh—”

The camera swung back around to Thrawn, who was unfolding his coat and speaking quietly to Savit as he slipped it on.

“—it appears Grand Admiral Thrawn has decided to go,” said the reporter, sounding smug and gleeful. “And Grand Admiral Savit isn’t making much of an attempt to stop him. No, there he goes. Sir—”

Thrawn walked right past the reporter, his face impassive. He pretended not to notice her holding a microphone out to him as he walked by.

Faro leaned back against her seat with a groan.

She’d just watched Thrawn’s relationship end on live TV, she realized. And if he and Savit were fighting, then Thrawn definitely wasn’t going to bother staying on Coruscant another night. He’d be back on the shuttle to the Chimaera in no time, and then who would have to deal with him and his foul mood?

This was going to be _miserable_.

* * *

“Sir,” said Faro loudly, knocking on Thrawn’s door. “Sir — Hammerly, Pyrondi, do you mind?”

They crowded in next to her and knocked as well, both of them yelling, “Sir! Open up!”

“I meant do you mind _leaving_ ,” said Faro, glaring over her left shoulder at Hammerly.

“You’ll tell us if he’s watching romance holos and eating ice cream?” asked Hammerly in a whisper. “I don’t want to lose the bet.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Faro hissed, though of course she intended to do no such thing. “I’ll tell you.”

“And you have to remember which romance it is,” Pyrondi put in. 

“And which flavor of ice cream,” Hammerly added. “There’s a lot riding on this, Faro.”

“Yes, I _know_ ,” said Faro — she blocked Pyrondi from knocking on Thrawn’s door again and pushed her none-too-gently away. “Now, I mean it. _Go_.”

Reluctantly, Hammerly and Pyrondi backed off; they sent wary glances over their shoulders at her until they were both out of sight. When the passageway was empty, Faro finally turned back to Thrawn’s door with a sigh and knocked again.

“I’m alone,” she said simply.

There was a brief pause, and then the hatch slid open, allowing her in. Faro stepped inside and glanced around; to her relief, Thrawn was not lounging on the sofa and watching romance holos in his pajamas, as so many people in the cantina had predicted. He sat behind his desk, in uniform as he always was, and appeared to be doing datawork of some sort.

Faro approached his desk tentatively.

“Sir,” she said.

“Commodore,” Thrawn replied, his tone unreadable but not cold. He gestured to the chair across from him without glancing up. “Please sit down.”

She did so, studying his face all the while. He hadn’t been crying, she noted with no surprise but a great deal of irrational relief. She’d been one of the only people in the cantina to vote that Thrawn would be perfectly fine post-breakup, and that had been mostly because of her own contempt for Savit — she had a hard time imagining that Thrawn didn’t feel the same way.

“What are you working on?” she asked, relaxing a little bit more.

Thrawn glanced up at her, and she thought it was possible that he was suppressing a smirk. Silently, he turned his datapad around and Faro saw multiple tabs open. One was an undoubtedly illicit, passcode-locked website where anyone with the proper know-how could use templates to forge scancodes and IDs. The other tab was a list of Martus Institute alumni, with photos and names included.

“You said you wouldn’t mind attending with me,” said Thrawn. He zoomed in one picture in particular. “With quickwash hair dye, you bear a strong resemblance to Miss Julta Iopo, who has thus far failed to visit her alma mater once.”

Faro stared at the photo, unsure whether to feel exasperated, amused, or glad that Thrawn was taking the break-up so well. She looked him in the eyes, searching for any sign of heartbreak, and Thrawn allowed her to study him for a moment.

“You were using that bastard for his access to the Institute,” Faro realized.

“Mostly,” Thrawn admitted. He tapped the datapad with one long finger. “What do you think?”

Faro eyed the photo, privately flattered that Thrawn had chosen someone so attractive as her supposed doppelganger. “Well, let’s keep looking through the alumni photos,” she said. “But I think it’s a date.”

Thrawn turned the datapad back around, no longer bothering to hide his smirk.

“Fuck Savit, anyway,” said Faro with a satisfied grin.

“Fuck Savit,” Thrawn agreed.


End file.
